Hush
by Wendy1
Summary: Sequel to Fear. Tortall Post-War


Anders of Mindelan sat beside the well dandling his youngest boy on his lap. Whilst he hated having to spend all his time in Mindelan, he certainly was enjoying playing with his children. They grew so much when he was away, rescuing the realm.   
As he remembered the bitterness with which he'd cursed Jonathan and Tortall when that centaur had knocked his from his horse and then rode all over him, he blushed. It hadn't even satisfied him to see the centaur twitch with pain as he smashed to the ground, a casualty of Ander's last arrow a few moments later. He thought he'd left the self pity behind now. His leg was slowly healing, and hopefully he'd be able to teach his son to ride in the summer months to come. However, as the baby shifted in his leg, he bit back a cry of pain.   
Some wounds just take longer than others to heal, he thought. The baby started to cry, as if he sensed the pain that Anders felt. "Hush," Anders muttered desperately to the baby. He would get a scolding from the nursemaid if she found him out here with Briant. It was apparently too cold for the children. The spring seemed to have gone on forever: one storm after another. The roads were nearly impassable, and the vast movements of people were not improving matters any. He'd already had many applications for new tenants from refugees, some from neighbouring fiefs. It was awkward for him to turn them down.   
Hopefully the return of his father and mother would aid matters. He hadn't seen any of them for over five years. He wasn't even sure he'd recognise Keladry. He wondered if he'd be glad to hand the running of the fief back to his father. It gave him something to do, when he was useless for all else.   
He heard the struggling hoofbeats approach the gate, and the slide of a rider falling to the ground. He watched the guards run outside, and carry a young woman wearing the colours of the Queen's Riders through. One dragged at her pony with a wary attitude, as it snapped for his fingers. Anders struggled to his feet, wincing as his bad leg caught on the well wall. He stumbled to the door of the house.   
  
The Rider had fallen of her horse at the gate. Underneath the fresh coating of mud, and all the old ones, were bruises where she must have done the same elsewhere.   
"What was so urgent that she just kept riding?" Anders asked the healer.   
"We didn't open the letter - addressed to the Baron at Mindelan. It looks Royal." His Man-at-arms passed the sealed letter to him. Anders tucked it under his arm, and turned to the healer once more. "Make sure she's well. I'd like to talk with her when she wakes up."   
Anders returned to his office, flipping the letter between his hands. In the end, he decided to read it, only to find that it contained some new proclamations, laws. He was puzzled as to why the Rider girl was near exhaustion. Her pony too, near skin and bone. He thought that the Rider's had more respect for their ponies than to let them get into that state. He hurried to the Rider's side when she woke.   
He knew why he was so worried over this Rider. She wasn't from Mindelan. She was from outside, she was part of the life he used to have. He used to have a life, and be a hero before this injury stopped him. He was now the country lord, a buffle-brained nobleman with nothing better to do than raise his crops and his children.   
  
She was struggling to get up. "I must go on. I've got to finish..." She bit her lip, making it bleed and pushed against the healer. She looked up at Anders slow entrance. "Let me go..." Her tone took on a pleading quality.   
Anders stopped in front of her. "You're safely to Mindelan. Why the urgency?"   
"I must deliver the letters. I've got to finish the job. I'm the only one..." Miri stopped, tears suddenly streaming down her face. "I've got to get off the road."   
"Off the road?" Anders was confused, yet he spoke to her gently.   
Miri spoke as if she was trying desperately to forget. Quickly, words spilling into one another. "No hope. Just people keeping going, trying to find food and shelter. A friendly fief? Unless they are beautiful or rich there's no hope. Just fear and walking. There's no law out there, just death... No hope." Miri trailed off, as her eyes once more seemed to see the horrors of the road.   
Anders remembered the people he'd moved on from Mindelan. Winter was approaching fast, and the poor harvest wasn't helping matters. Every victory had a price, and Starvation and Slaughter had been the price of the Immortals War. Yet it wasn't those who'd caused it that were suffering. He'd heard tales of plans for a Grand Progress, once the Yamani bride was brought to Tortall.   
Anders suddenly stood, ignoring the complaint from his leg, and spat on the floor. The bile in his mouth spattered to the ground as he gestured to the healer. "Get her well." He pointed to Miri. "We're going to have a lot of work to do soon."   
  
It took some planning, but Mindelan became a place of refuge. It took time, however, and Miri was healed and ready to keep going by the time that the first of those on the road found their way to the rooms and food that Anders had laid aside for them. Every story he heard deepened his resolve to see something done. Too many of these people had been farmers turned out when they couldn't pay their rent. Too many of these people almost turned to banditry.   
  
He was talking with a blacksmith and his wife one day when Miri found him.   
"Thank you, " she said as they walked towards her waiting pony. "I never thought that this was possible." Her eyes shone with gratitude. "The road won't be so bad now I know that someone is at least doing something."   
It seemed that Anders had stopped one more person's nightmare. 


End file.
